


My Eyes

by RainySunday



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Dark, F/M, I APOLOGIZE, Sad, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 00:38:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13582332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainySunday/pseuds/RainySunday
Summary: That’s the problem when trying to build something – if the foundation isn’t any good, it will all come tumbling down sooner or later. Beginning something on drunken kisses, secret glances in public, whispered secrets in dark hallways, well. It shouldn’t have surprised Bash when it all got yanked away.The night Mary chose Francis, from Bash’s perspective. Alternative ending.





	My Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Too young to know, too old to admit  
> That you couldn’t see how it ends  
> What did you do to my eyes  
> What did you sing to that lonely child  
> Promised it all but you lied  
> You better slow down baby soon  
> It’s all or nothing to you

**********

 

That moment Mary had walked into the room, Bash knew it was over. He’d lost.

 

She had caught him mid-dressing. He hadn’t bothered to finish putting the shirt on once her eyes had locked with his. It’s funny what doesn’t really matter anymore when everything is laid out in front of you like that.

 

He held those beautiful brown eyes with his own, hesitant to hear what was coming. He watched the light dance across them, highlighting the flecks of gold and amber streaked through the iris. They seemed sad. Bash realized he was missing what she was saying, but he could guess.

 

“Please Mary, I just need to know. Did you love me?”

 

She had nodded. Somehow that just made him feel worse.

 

“But you love Francis more.” Again she nodded. The floor felt a little unsteady for just a moment, like he had unknowingly drank just a bit too much wine.

 

It all became a bit of a blur after that. The air just felt like rushing water against his ears, loud and crashing and drowning out anything else useful. Bash felt cold. At some point Mary had left, and Bash floundered about pushing items into a backpack, none too carefully. Partway into his scramblings, he realized he still hadn’t put a shirt on. Turning left and right and not seeing one, realizing he must have already packed it, he dumped the contents of his bag back out on the floor. The grey muslin all pooled up on the cobblestone, items strewn around, just seemed so lonely. Bash felt like he could relate.

 

 _Deep Breath._ Bash pulled the shirt over his head, then ran a hand through his hair halfheartedly attempting to flatten it down. Turning back to the mess he had left on the floor, a small glint caught his eye.

 

It was one of Mary’s decorative hairpins. Gold probably, with little seed pearls in a setting resembling some small flower. Heaven knows how it got here, all tangled up in the remnants of his possessions. He couldn’t remember it being a gift, but then again so much seemed a blur right now. Maybe he had removed from her hair one of those evenings they clutched each other in the dark and explored each other with their gaze.

 

_So little remains._

Bash tossed the pin back in the bag with the remainder of his things, drew the straps, grabbed his coat and headed for the door.

 

**********

 

He had planned on sneaking out while the festivities carried out two floors down. He wasn’t sure where he’d go, just knew he couldn’t stay here. Not now.

 

Bash hadn’t had the strength to sneak a glance at the bride as he passed the doors to the main hall. He wondered if it was the same dress she had been planning to wear to their own wedding. He wondered if, in that alternate ending, if she would have smiled up at him while placing a ring on his finger with that grin that went straight to his soul. She would be smiling at Francis now. His gut churned.

 

Halfway across the courtyard he was stopped by a guard. Bash didn’t even try to argue.

 

**********

 

He’d been placed in a small room with the door shut behind him.

 

“Wait here.” Spoke the guard.

 

The door was closed, and Bash was left in the candlelight. He wondered if he should be worried, but couldn’t seem to bring himself to care all that much. Cold water still seemed to be crashing into his brain, numbing him. He knew there were consequences for his actions; he would be seen as a traitor to the crown. Perhaps executed. Maybe the hangman’s noose or the pyre’s flames would finally drive this cold out of his body. All he could think of were Mary’s eyes as she had sealed his fate. Were there tears in them? Or had he only imagined them? Maybe he was only remembering what he had wanted to see.

 

Perhaps he had sat down at some point, perhaps he had paced, and Bash couldn’t have told you. Five minutes or two hours later, Henry himself came through the door.

 

“Come with me.” His tone didn’t really leave any room for argument. Bash left his pack and followed him down the hall. At some point it had become dark outside. A guard was following a few paces back. Bash really didn’t pay attention to where they were going in the castle. Henry didn’t speak further until they stood outside a wooden door, voices coming from the other side.

 

“You will come inside, and you will watch this. You need to understand that Mary doesn’t belong to you anymore.”

 

_No._

 

The blood rose up and swam to Bash’s cheeks. He knew they were outside a bedroom. Henry couldn’t mean…. couldn’t mean this. To stand here and have to….

 

The door was swung open, but Bash couldn’t make himself walk over the threshold. The guard came up behind him, firmly grasping Bash’s arms and yanking them behind his back. He has manhandled into the room and face to face with a scene that normally would have made him fly into a rage. Now, Bash just felt utterly defeated.

 

Mary was spread out on the bed, Francis over her. It was quite apparent what was already happening.

 

_Please just let me sink into the floor._

 

Bash tried to look away, but Henry reached over and turned his head back to face the newlyweds.

 

Henry whispered harshly into his ear. “As I said earlier, you will watch this. All of this.”

 

The king’s hand dropped to his side. Panic was crawling up into Bash’s throat once again, making him feel as though he was being choked. Nothing could be worse than this.

 

Mary turned her head at that moment, and she glanced through the people in the small crowd. As she reached Bash, her gaze stopped in shock. For the second time that day, they locked eyes.

 

_No, I was wrong. This is worse._

Bash had to force himself to keep from crying out. Watching Mary watch him, watching those brown eyes see him in agony standing here, bound and forced to pay witness to this horrid spectacle. Her actions had put him here. Why should it bother her? She hadn’t wanted him. Yet there was something in her gaze – Bash refused to focus on it, the hope only made this more painful. Anger was easier.

 

Mary looked away again, and Bash pinched his eyes shut. Perhaps Henry would have a little mercy this time and not force him to look any longer. His breath came in gasps, but did little to ease the hunger for air in his lungs. His head spun.

 

A few minutes later, the guard pushed Bash back towards the door, and out into the hall again.

 

**********

 

His pack had been returned to him, weapon removed of course, and two guards waited for him beside the gate. Horses for all three stood ready.

 

“You will ride with escort to the nearest port, where I have booked passage for you to the south of France.” Henry spoke coldly. Bash supposed having to choose between his sons had shown the king how little he favored the bastard over the golden boy.

 

Bash didn’t bother arguing. No money or food had been given to him, he did not expect to reach port.

 

“Goodbye father.”

 

Henry merely nodded, then turned away. He was already gone back inside the safety of his castle when Bash and his escorts rode away.

 

**********

 

They were a good hour into the woods when Bash felt his entourage grow restless. The guards pressed in closer to his horse, and the forced small talk of earlier had stopped entirely.

 

Bash glanced around and saw the guard to his left quietly unsheathe his sword, Bash quickly reached for the small knife hidden in his boot. The guard began to swing his sword, but his horse was riding so close that Bash was able to grab the guard’s body and pull him close. He watched the light leave this unnamed man’s eyes as the knife plunged between his ribs. The guard dropped to the forest floor. The second guard was not so easy, but Bash managed. He hadn’t spent most of his childhood training in combat just to lose to a lowly guard deep in the forest.

 

He knew this had been ordered. Was it by Francis? Or perhaps Henry. Catherine still didn’t have enough power back to make this sort of call. Was Mary party to this plan as well?

 

_It doesn’t matter. She knew she signed my death warrant as soon as she chose Francis._

 

He could see her sweet brown eyes gazing up at him in his mind.

 

Maybe they wanted him dead, but he wasn’t going like this. If he was going to go at all, Bash was choosing his way out himself.

 

He picked up his rucksack, grabbed a sword, mounted his horse, and continued riding away from the castle.

 

**********

 

Bash had stopped partway through the night to catch a little sleep after he had put some space between him and the bodies of his would-be assassins still resting on the forest road. Only a little sleep, as Bash was sure someone would have been dispatched to check in after the guards had not returned.

 

The sun was just coming up as Bash rode into the small village. The same village where Bash had come through with Mary only a few weeks previous, the village with a small chapel and a priest Bash was planning to bribe to marry them before taking off to the coast and escaping for Scotland. The significance of location was not lost on him.

 

Bash tethered his horse outside the local apothecary, and knocked on the door. He hoped the merchant was up.

 

An older gentleman opened the door, and allowed Bash entrance.

 

“Dear Sir, what brings you in here so early in the day?” The man’s face was kind.

 

Bash had concocted his plan when riding through the forest alone last night. It was amazing what kind of clarity could be had after a scuffle with death. It had driven out the cold fog just long enough to get him to this point.

 

“Tincture of belladonna, if you would be so kind.” Bash kept his gaze averted.

 

“Ah, for a fair maiden love I suspect.” The man’s eyes twinkled with a knowing look. “Yes, I believe I have a bottle or two here somewhere. Make the eyes look quite beautiful you know. Takes just a drop or two. But not too much, or it can cause hallucinations.”

 

Bash watched as the man shuffled through an assortment of items on a nearby table. Next he knew a small bottle was being placed in his palm.

 

“And how does the gentleman want to pay for this?”

 

Bash wordlessly took his satchel off and began rifling through the contents, finally closing his fingers around the item he sought. He dropped the gold and pearl hairpiece in the gentleman’s outstretched hand.

 

“Will this do?”

 

The man looked at Bash just a few seconds longer than necessary, seemingly calculating his motives. The hairpiece was clearly far more valuable. Bash cleared his throat.

 

“Yes, sir. That will do just fine.” The man backed away, leaving Bash free to walk towards the door.

 

Bash left without a thank-you.

 

**********

 

Bash had spent the rest of the day riding to the ocean. Once there, it had taken an hour or two, but Bash had found a spot on the shoreline where the cliffs rose up and over the water and provided a spectacular view of both the horizon and the port-town downshore. He had left his horse in town with the blacksmith.

 

The sun was beginning to set again.

 

Bash sunk down into the grass, and ran his hands down to the course dirt below. The salt air rose up and filled his head. The sound of the waves was distant, but still filled his ears.

 

Once Bash had arrived at this spot, the energy he had been running on all day evaporated and left him once again in the muffled, foggy state he had left the castle in. All he could see was Mary’s eyes – staring at him when she told him she loved his brother. Mary’s eyes locked onto his while his brother consummated their marriage. Staring up at him as she caressed his face with her hand after he had kissed her beside Isobel’s grave just last week. The sun had danced in them, turning the brown to honey.

 

He would never see those eyes again.

 

Bash removed his purchase from his pocket. The small bottle was stopped up with a bit of wax. Bash hadn’t asked for a dropper, and wouldn’t be needing one. He pulled the wax away, and held the bottle up to the skyline.

 

_Mary, I wish you a long and happy marriage. I wish I could have been good enough for you. The best gift I can give you now is to stay out of your way._

 

Bash brought the bottle to his lips, and downed the entire tincture in a single swallow.

 

He knew the visions would start soon, had heard of belladonna’s effects as a poison from Nostradamus. He knew his heart would race, and his hands grow clammy. And then he would slip into a sleep from which he wouldn’t wake. Bash grew calm at this thought. He just wished he could shake Mary’s eyes from his memory. He prayed they would not be the focus of his last dreams.

Bash laid back on the grass in the fading light, and folded his hands over his chest.

 

**********

 

The next morning, a shepherd boy rushed into town looking for a doctor. He spoke of finding a man sleeping up on the cliff, nothing with him save a small leather backpack. The young boy had tried to wake him, but hadn’t been able to. He told anyone who would listen about it -

 

“He had the biggest green eyes, just staring up at the heavens. He was cold as ice.”

 

**********


End file.
